Antigonish
by dnachemlia
Summary: Written as a NFA Hangman prize for Kayleighbough and the I'll Be There for You Challenge. Tim agrees to act as a live-in caretaker for an old plantation house, and gets a lot more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Antigonish**

Written as a NFA Hangman prize for **Kayleighbough** and the _I'll Be There for You Challenge_. The title is the same as the poem that was given as a prompt and the poem will appear in the story

Genre: Supernatural/Horror/Suspense/Friendship

Characters: Tim, Ziva, the rest of the crew, OCs

Pairings: Tim/Ziva friendship (mainly)

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

Summary: Tim agrees to act as a live-in caretaker for an old plantation house and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

* * *

Chapter 1

"I cannot believe you agreed to do this," Ziva declared as she pulled the last box of books from the U-Haul.

"Neither can I," admitted Tim, "but it's too late to back out now." He climbed up into the back of the truck and started to sweep the floor, wanting to make sure it was clean before he returned it to the rental lot.

Ziva turned to stare at Tim's new residence, for the next year, at least. "I just cannot picture you living so far from the city. This place is so…middle of nowhere."

"It's only thirty miles from work, as the crow flies."

"You are not a crow."

Tim chuckled. "No, I'm not, but the drive is not that bad, either."

"Sure, if you like gravel roads. I do not think your Porsche will hold up very well driving on those, especially in bad weather."

"That's why he'll be using our Jeep."

They both turned to the newcomer, a petite, blue-eyed brunette. "Thanks for the offer, Mary, but I don't want-"

"Nonsense, Tim. It wouldn't be good for the old thing to sit around unused. Besides, Ziva is right, your car isn't really made for country driving. Something else, you'll have to get used to out here in the Boonies." She smiled and winked.

"I can't believe you and Craig have lived way out here for ten years. He really seemed to like the city life when we were at MIT."

"We both do, but when the Craig's mother asked us to move back to the old Barton homestead, we didn't have any qualms. Besides, we are close enough to the city if the urge arises."

"And we'll have enough of city life after our year in Hong Kong is up, I'm sure." The man, who could have passed for Tim's brother, grinned as he joined the group. "We're just glad to have someone we trust to look after the place. And I'm sure Tim will enjoy not paying rent for a year," he added with a laugh.

"Might even be able to save up enough for a decent down payment on a house," said Mary with a knowing grin.

"A house?" asked Ziva as she sent a surprised look at her team mate. "I thought you were happy with apartment living?"

Tim blushed slightly. "I'm getting tired of noisy neighbors. Besides, I hate having to fight with the landlord every time I need something re-wired."

"Well you won't have to worry about neighbors or noise here. Our closest neighbor is about a quarter of a mile away, and sometimes I think it's _too_ quiet here," observed Mary.

"Except for the boats on the river, but the season for that is winding down. Oh, and you don't have to worry about our boat. She's in dry-dock for the year."

"That's good," said Tim, relieved he wouldn't have to chance subjecting himself to seasickness, off the job at least.

"The only other excitement you'll get is around the holidays. We have an agreement with the Historical Society to allow them to hold their annual fundraiser here. They'll be around to decorate and stuff. Don't let them con you into helping," said Mary as she shook her finger at Tim with mock sternness.

"Just lock yourself away in the guest wing and let them do their thing. They shouldn't bother you too much."

Tim had to chuckle. The idea of living in a house with a 'guest wing' still took some getting used to.

"Enough yammering. Let's get the rest of your stuff up to the house," said Craig as he hefted the last box of books and started towards the imposing building as the rest followed with the remaining articles from the truck.

The house, known as _Willows Hill_, was a large, brick-faced, five part Georgian mansion which sat on a hill overlooking the Potomac River. It had been built around 1720 by Craig's ancestors and his family had lived there ever since. The grounds immediately surrounding of the mansion were artfully landscaped, including two large weeping willow trees that flanked the path to the main entrance. The lawns covered five acres and the rest of the five hundred acre property was used for agriculture.

"This used to be a tobacco plantation," said Craig when he noticed Ziva staring at the fields. "Nowadays it's just corn and soybeans. Maybe not as profitable, but much more morally satisfying."

"Even more so than when the fields were worked by slaves. It's a good thing your family got out of that sooner than later," said Mary as she rolled her eyes at the thought of the abhorrent practices that had taken place in the area nearly 200 years ago.

"Now we just lease the lands. The payments cover insurance and taxes. Nothing like living the genteel life without the cost, right Tim?"

Tim just shook his head. He knew his friends could have afforded the place without the lease payments. Mary was a business lawyer with a very successful international firm and Craig's expertise in the computer field was in high demand. He had offered Tim a job many times, but the younger man always refused. He knew where he belonged, despite the long hours, frustrations, and craziness that came with being an NCIS agent.

The group entered the house, stashed Tim's belongings in his suite of rooms in the southern wing of the house, and then made their way back to the kitchen. After fixing themselves something to drink, they all wandered out to the back patio. The view of the river was breathtaking as they looked out over the terraced backyard that ended at the shoreline.

"It's beautiful," murmured Ziva. "Your family chose a nice spot for their home." She turned to Mary. "Is your family's home around here as well?"

"No, I'm not from around here. I've from Nova Scotia, actually. A town called Antigonish."

"Just like the poem," said Craig and Mary groaned.

"Not that again."

"What poem?" asked Ziva.

"_Antigonish_, by Hughes Mearns?"

"I am sorry, I do not know of it."

Craig quickly recited the first verse:

"_Yesterday upon the stair  
I met a man who wasn't there.  
He wasn't there again today  
Oh how I wish he'd go away."_

Ziva shook her head. "I have not heard it…He met someone who wasn't there? A ghost?"

"Yes. The author wrote the poem based on a story about a haunted house in the town. It was a song, too, if I remember correctly," said Mary.

"Kind of ironic…"

"Oh don't start on that, Craig," groaned Mary with mock annoyance.

"Start on what?" asked Tim with a worried expression on his face.

Mary sighed. "It's an old family legend. You know the drill, every old house has its share of ghost stories. Supposedly there's a least one ghost here that hangs out on the main staircase. I've never seen anything, of course, but several people claim to have seen it."

Craig snorted. "More than several, hon, and they haven't just seen it."

"Tim doesn't really need to hear that, _dear_. You and I both know it's nonsense."

"What is nonsense?"

Craig and Mary shared a glance before Craig turned to Ziva. "Three people, all claim that something pushed them while they were walking down the stairs. Two almost fell, and the third did, although he managed to catch himself before falling too far. And then…"

"Then what?"

"My father…my mother found him one morning at the bottom of the stairs. He had fallen sometime during the night, and…his neck was broken."

"Craig, you know that was just an accident. Clayton's knees were bad. One of them gave out and-"

"Yeah, I know. Still, it's a hell of a coincidence."

"No such thing as coincidences," said Ziva, casting a worried glance at Tim.

"And there's no such thing as ghosts," said Tim with more confidence than he felt. "But I guess it's a good thing I'll be sticking to the ground floor, huh?"

Craig chuckled. "Yeah, it is. Sorry, sometimes I get carried away with the family lore thing."

"I understand."

"Come on, let's get you settled it. There will be enough time for stories later."

After the rental truck had been returned, the rest of the day was spent unpacking and arranging Tim's collection of books, records, and electronics which had filled his DC apartment. Tim had decided to forgo his usual computer set up, and instead only had one desktop and one laptop connected for his computing needs. When asked why, he claimed he needed a bit of a break from computing while at home. In reality he felt awkward adding so much modernity to such an old dwelling.

That evening, Mary and Craig teamed up to cook dinner in the main kitchen. The old fireplace and cooking hearth were still in place, and were used by the couple, much to Ziva's delight. Mary told her she was welcome to come over and cook for Tim any time she liked, and Ziva had to smile at the not-so-subtle attempt at matchmaking, while Tim remained happily oblivious. Ziva said she would take it under consideration.

After dinner, the group sat out on the patio, swapping stories and chatting about what the next year would hold. Ziva learned quite a bit about Tim's college days, and Tim learned about the history of the mansion that was now his home. Time passed quickly, and before they realized it was after midnight. Mary offered Ziva one of the guest rooms and she gratefully accepted. She had not been looking forward to driving those unfamiliar back roads at night.

The next day was a rush of packing, completing lists and confirming instructions before everything was loaded into the jeep. Tim drove his friends to the airport and after one final goodbye, he and Ziva headed back to _Willows Hill_. Once back, she helped him finish setting up his rooms and finally headed to her car to drive home.

Tim watched her drive out of sight and turned back to the mansion. It was a lot more intimidating now that he was alone, and he began to wonder about his choice to live here. It was true, he did want to get out of the city for awhile and maybe spend some time in the evenings writing rather than gaming, but he hoped it wouldn't be too much of a culture shock.

After enjoying a cup of coffee out on the patio and watching the sun set over the river, he went back into house and made his way to the guest wing. He sat down at his typewriter and, to his great surprise, started to type with ease. He typed out the history of the house, as well as many of the family stories Craig had shared with him the previous evening. He considered turning the writings into some sort of historical novel and shook his head. Maybe a collection of oral history stories instead? Yes, that would work. Craig had introduced him to some of the locals, members of the original families that had settled the area, and he was sure they would talk to him again. They had all seemed surprisingly gregarious for a first meeting with a stranger.

With an array of productive thoughts working their way through his brain, he got ready for bed and set his alarm for 0400, smiling ruefully at the reminder of one of the downsides of living so far away from work. He climbed into bed and sank into it with a contented sigh, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

The blaring of the alarm pulled him from a sound slumber and he groaned. He reminded himself that he really did need to go to bed earlier, especially when he had to get up way before the "asscrack of dawn" as Craig had so charmingly put it when they were college roommates.

Tim completed his normal morning routine before making his way to the main part of the house and fixing himself a quick breakfast. After toast and coffee, he quickly did the dishes, grabbed his keys, and started for the front door. A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to stop and turn his attention to the large main staircase in the central part of the house. He stared for a moment and shook his head with a soft laugh. Just his imagination, fueled by his friends' stories two nights ago. He looked up again and this time he saw a definite shadow move across the top of the steps.

_Crap. Maybe it's an animal that got in. I better catch it before it makes a mess._

He went back to his room and grabbed a heavy blanket from the closet. It would do as a net in a pinch.

He went back to the staircase and started to ascend, glancing around for the invading critter. He had gone halfway up when he heard a sound behind him. He turned, and for the briefest moment he thought he saw the shape of a man standing at the bottom of the stairs. Before he could call out to the intruder, his foot caught on part of the step and he lost his balance. He pinwheeled his arms and managed to regain his equilibrium, but just as he was breathing a sigh of relief, he felt a tap at his back, not hard, but just enough to set him teetering again, and this time there was no reprieve. He started to tumble and almost without thought he wrapped his arms around his head to protect it. His back hit steps and his momentum carried him forward. Before he could stop his rapid descent, his head connected with something solid and he fell away into the blackness.

* * *

A/N: My muse is being contrary. Again. Hence the new WIP *sigh*


	2. Chapter 2

_**Antigonish**_

Written as a NFA Hangman prize for **KayleighBough** and the _I'll Be There for You Challenge_.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

* * *

_**When I came home last night at three  
The man was waiting there for me  
But when I looked around the hall  
I couldn't see him there at all!  
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!  
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...(slam)**_

_~ Antigonish (second verse), by Hughes Mearns_

Chapter 2

The feeling of unease that Ziva had been experiencing since yesterday, when she had left McGee alone at _Willows Hill_, deepened as she walked into the bullpen and saw that his desk was empty. She checked her watch and frowned. He definitely should have been here by now, as she herself was just barely on time.

She sat down at her desk and checked her email as she wondered about McGee's absence. She told herself that he was probably just not used to the new commute, but the worry remained. There were no messages, and she was about to give him a call when Tony came rushing into the bullpen and flopped into his chair.

"Made it," he panted as he dropped his bag on the floor and managed to sit up straight.

"By the skin of your nose," Ziva remarked as she hid her worry away.

"Teeth, Ziva. It's 'skin of your teeth'."

"That makes no sense: teeth do not have skin."

He ignored her comment and looked over at the empty desk to his right. "Where's McTardy?"

"I do not know. He had to take a different route to work this morning. Maybe there was a delay that he did not anticipate."

"Why did he have to take a different route?"

"Because he moved to a new place this weekend."

"McGee moved out of his apartment? Why didn't he mention it to me?"

"You will have to ask him."

"And how did _you_ find out?"

"He asked for my help. It is what friends do."

"Oh, yeah. 'Friends help you move and real friends help you move bodies'…you didn't move any of those, did you?"

"Not yet."

"And not today," Gibbs proclaimed as he strode to his desk, coffee in hand. "Vance wants us to go through the last five years worth of cold cases."

"Oh, goody," muttered Tony. "Better call McSlacker and get him in here, Ziva."

"I was planning on it." She picked up her phone and dialed McGee's cell. It rang several times and then went to voice mail. She then searched through her bag, pulled out the paper with his new home number and dialed it. It, too rang several times and then went to voicemail, when gave McGee's cell and work numbers.

"No luck?"

"No. Perhaps I should-"

"Trace the location of his cell?"

"Of course." She pulled up the tracking program and punched in McGee's number. "It is at his new address. He has not left yet." This time the worry surfaced and Gibbs turned to stare at her for a moment before making a decision.

"Go check on him. DiNozzo, go with her, and be quick about it."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, looking more than happy to escape the paperwork. "Come on Ziva, he probably just overslept. How badly did you wear him out this weekend?" he asked with a toothy grin.

"He was fine when I left him yesterday," she replied, ignoring his innuendo as they stepped into the elevator.

"And you don't think he's fine now?"

"McGee is never late, unless there is something wrong. You know this, Tony."

"Yeah, I do."

XXX

When they reached the end of the driveway Tony gave a low whistle. "Holy McMansion, Batman. Did Tim hit the Powerball and not tell us?"

"No, he did not. The house belongs to his friends who are out of the country for a year. He is house-sitting."

"I didn't know he had such rich friends."

"It is an old family estate. They inherited it."

"How old?"

She ignored his question as she parked the car and climbed out.

Tony looked around and smirked. "There isn't a topiary garden around, is there? You know, hedges clipped to look like animals?"

"No." She started towards the front door and Tony followed.

"So why did McCity-Boy move all the way out here?"

"He said he wanted peace and quiet. I also believe he wanted to get back to his writing. He hinted that he did, although he did not directly say it."

"Ah. 'All work and no play make Tim a dull boy'."

"Something like that." She fished a key out of her pocket, opened the front door, and was surprised to find that the alarm was off.

"McCaretaker isn't doing a very good job," noted Tony. "Maybe he-"

"_McGee!_" Ziva saw the crumpled form of their teammate at the base of the large front staircase and rushed to his side. Tony froze in shock for a brief second before joining her. Ziva immediately put two fingers against McGee's neck to check his pulse and slumped in relief. "He is alive. McGee?" She patted his face. "Wake up." She shook his shoulder and he groaned.

"Tim? You OK?" asked Tony as he checked him over. It didn't immediately appear that anything was broken.

Finally McGee's eyes opened to half-mast and he slowly looked up at them. Ziva could see that one pupil was slightly larger than the other. _That is not good._ "McGee?" she asked again and he managed to answer.

"Ziva? Tony? Wha…what are you doin' here?" His normally precise speech was slurred.

"You broke rule number three. Gibbs sent us to come get you."

"Oh." His eyes closed. "Wha…time…is it?"

"After 0800."

His eyes snapped open. "Oh crap…I'm late." He tried to sit up and groaned again, swallowing hard to fight back the nausea.

"What happened, McGee?"

"I…I don' know. I was gettin' ready to leave and…I don'…remember. I…sorry… Dizzy." He sank back down to the floor and closed his eyes.

"Looks like a concussion," said Tony in a low voice. "We should probably get him to the hospital."

Ziva pulled out her phone.

"No…need to get…to work. Gibbs'll…kill me."

"Looks like you almost did that yourself, McGee. What did you do, fall down the stairs?" Tony caught the brief flash of fear that crossed Ziva's face. "What?"

"Nothing. _Were_ you on the stairs, McGee?"

"I don'…something…got in…I think."

"Someone did this to you?" McGee didn't answer and Tony shook his head. "Damn it. We didn't even check to see if someone broke in. Stay with him." He rose and headed towards the back of the house to check the windows.

Ziva called for the ambulance and then sat back to wait, absently stroking McGee's face as she talked to him in an attempt to keep him alert.

"It will be alright, McGee. I promise. Do not go to sleep. You must stay awake."

"Tryin'…"

Finally, Tony returned from his search of the main floor. "No sign of a break in, I should check the second floor…damn, this place is _huge_." He stopped to listen. "Where the hell is the ambulance?"

"It is not the city, Tony. It takes some time to get out here."

"Maybe we should have driven him to the hospital ourselves. At least we'd be there by now, especially if _you_ drove."

"Shut up, Tony. You-" She stopped to listen. "I hear the ambulance. You should go let them in." She returned her attention to their partner.

"He'll be OK, Ziva," said Tony softly before turning and heading for the front door. A few minutes later he returned with the paramedics and they quickly started to assess their patient.

"What happened? Has he lost consciousness?" Ziva nodded. "How long?"

"We are not sure," replied Ziva. "He was late to work and we came to check on him. We found him here, unconscious, maybe fifteen minutes ago?"

"Twenty," corrected Tony. "You need to work on your response time."

The paramedics ignored his comment. "Dizziness? Nausea?"

"Yeah, both. Is he going to be alright?"

After checking him over, one of the paramedics responded. "Probably. Took a nasty hit to the back of his head. We'll take him in for a CAT scan, just to be on the safe side, to make sure there's no intracranial bleeding. He's going to have a hell of a headache for a while, though."

"He's kind of used to those," Tony quipped, his false smile fading when he caught Ziva's glare. "Long story."

The paramedics transferred McGee to the stretcher and strapped him down. "We're taking him to Southern Maryland Regional Hospital, it's closest."

"Thanks. We'll meet you there."

They quickly secured McGee in the back in the ambulance and drove off. Tony headed for the car, and after re-setting the alarm and locking the door, Ziva followed him.

"We better call Gibbs," said Tony as he unlocked the doors. He pulled out his phone and before he could open it, it rang. He checked the number. "How does he do that? Yeah, Boss?"

"_What part of 'be quick about it' was unclear, DiNozzo?"_

"Sorry, Boss. We're kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

"_Did you find McGee?"_

"Yeah, he's on his way to the hospital."

"_What happened?"_

"Not really sure. He has a concussion, at least. We're on our way to find out if there's anything else."

"_Damn it…We've got a dead petty officer that washed up on Solomons Island. One of you can stay with McGee and the other better meet me there."_

"You want to work a case with just two of us? Dumb question. What's the address?"

"_Chesapeake Biological Laboratory, main dock." _

"Got it." He snapped his phone shut. "Gibbs needs one of us: dead petty officer. You want to flip for it?" Ziva gave him a glare worthy of their boss. "I'll drop you off at the hospital."

XXX

Ziva sat in one of the ubiquitous hard plastic chairs outside the ER, waiting for news on McGee. To keep her mind occupied, she went over several plans she had formulated to convince him to move out of that house. Instinctively she knew he would never go for any of them, and would probably laugh (politely, of course) at her reasons, but it would not hurt to try. She knew that his sense of duty was strong and it would be next to impossible to get him to go back on a promise to his friends. She only hoped she would be able to do something to prevent a repeat of this morning's events, or something even worse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and looked up to see a doctor approaching. She stood and he stopped in front of her.

"You're here with Mr. McGee?"

"_Agent_ McGee, yes. How is he?"

"He has a concussion, and several abrasions and contusions, but no fractures or other severe injuries. The CAT scan didn't show any intracranial pressure, but given his symptoms we'd like to keep him under observation for a few hours, preferably overnight. He's still experiencing dizziness and nausea, although his speech has almost returned to normal. He is also experiencing mild retrograde amnesia: he doesn't remember how he was injured, although his injuries are consistent with having fallen down a flight of stairs. In that case, he was lucky. It could have been a lot worse."

"He could have…broken his neck?"

"Possibly. I've seen it enough times, usually with someone much older, though."

"But he will be alright?"

"He should be, but it may take some time for him to recover: a few days at the very least. During that time he shouldn't be too active, but he doesn't need to be on bed rest. Unless his symptoms get worse, of course, and then he needs to come back here for more tests. It would probably be a good idea for him to have someone with him for the next few days, just to be on the safe side. Oh, and he should avoid the stairs, at least until his balance is better."

_You have no idea…_

"Anything else?"

"Not right now. You may go and sit with him, if you like. He's asleep at the moment but he will need someone to wake him up every couple of hours. I get the feeling he'd appreciate it more from someone he knows."

"He does not appreciate it from anyone, but I will be happy to help."

"Good. Follow me, Miss…?"

"Agent David. You may call me Ziva, Doctor…?"

"Bradshaw. You may call me Brad."

"Brad Bradshaw?"

He chuckled. "No. Torrance Bradshaw. Old family name."

"Oh. Nice to meet you then, Brad."

"You too, Ziva. Now, let's go see your friend."

XXX

Thankfully the crime scene had been a relatively straight forward job. Palmer had seconded as the photographer and a couple of local cops had helped with controlling the crowd (mainly curious graduate students and a few tourists) and had helped to retrieve the body from the water. The only real annoyances had been DiNozzo insisting that the Island wasn't an island, and Ducky feeling the need to lecture them all that the ten feet of separation from the mainland by a shallow stretch of water did in fact make it so.

The case itself also looked to be fairly simple. The pattern of injuries of the deceased, a possibly fractured ankle and blunt-force trauma to the head, plus the fact that he had reportedly planned on going fishing the day before on a rock wall near the Navy base, pointed to an accident. The man had most likely caught his foot in a space between the rocks, fell and bashed his head before rolling into the water. The real question would be whether the cause of death was the head injury or drowning. Ducky suspected the latter.

When they had finally finished processing the scene, Gibbs sent DiNozzo back with the truck (much to his obvious disappointment) and Gibbs took the sedan to go check on McGee and retrieve Ziva from the hospital.

When he entered the room, Gibbs was amused to find that both of his agents were asleep, although he would never let them know that. McGee was quite a bit paler than he would have liked to see, and the bruises that were forming were going to serve as a reminder of McGee's accident for the foreseeable future, but Gibbs was still relieved that it hadn't been worse. It was more than likely that the most trouble McGee would have in the near future would be teasing from his co-workers.

Gibbs decided to wake Ziva first. He touched her shoulder and she nearly leapt out of the chair, eyes wide with alarm. She quickly relaxed when she saw who had disturbed her.

"Gibbs. Is everything alright?"

"You tell me. How is he?"

"They have decided to keep him overnight, but he should be able to go home tomorrow. I…I did not ask when he could go back to work." She glanced at the sleeping man. "He should be woken up in a few minutes. I-"

"Go take a break, Ziva. I'll handle it."

"Yes, Gibbs." She gave McGee one last glance before leaving the room.

He sat down in the chair she had vacated and reached out to touch McGee's arm. He woke immediately and he turned towards Gibbs, eyes widening in surprise when he realized who was there.

"Boss? Where's Ziva?"

"Taking a break. You OK?"

"Fine, Boss. I'm more…embarrassed than anything." He closed his eyes and swallowed several times, still obviously fighting nausea. Gibbs waited until he had it under control before asking the next question.

"What happened?"

"I…well, they told me I probably fell down the stairs. I remember getting ready to leave for work, and…I remember thinking something got in the house and I was trying to catch it…but after that it's a blank."

"Something?"

"Yeah, a raccoon or possum. Not sure why I thought that, though. That part is still hazy."

"Next time call animal control, McGee."

"I didn't think they'd come out that early, Boss."

"No, probably not…now do you want to tell me why Ziva is so worried?"

"What do you mean?"

Gibbs just stared at his agent and McGee blushed slightly.

"It's kind of…silly, Boss."

"You think something that could worry Ziva is 'silly'?"

"No…well, not really. It's just…you know how she is about…certain stuff."

"'Certain stuff'?"

McGee sighed. "I'm house-sitting for some friends of mine…and the house is really old. Of course, every old house has its share of…ghost stories. My friends told Ziva one of the stories, and…"

"She's dealing with her 'ghost phobia' again."

"Exactly."

"So is there a reason why she thinks she _should_ be worried?"

"Well…supposedly this ghost…pushes people down the stairs." He caught Gibbs look and hurried to explain. "But I wasn't pushed, Boss. At least…I don't think so…and besides, you know there's no such thing. It was just a coincidence."

"You know how I feel about those, McGee."

McGee didn't answer.

"If there is any chance being in that place poses a danger to you, McGee, I want you to move out."

"Boss, you don't honestly believe-?"

"In ghosts? No, but that doesn't mean some_one_ couldn't try to get you out of the picture, and you're pretty isolated out there. Understand?"

"Yes, Boss, but I promised my friends. I can't really back out now. I _can_ try to get better security, though. Craig did mention once that the alarm system sometimes fails. I can talk to him about an upgrade."

"You do that. _After_ you're recovered. In the mean time-"

"I will be staying with him." They both turned towards the speaker and McGee sighed in frustration.

"Ziva…"

"Doctor's orders, McGee."

"OK, fine. At least there's plenty of room."

"Yes, there is."

Gibbs rose from his chair. "If you two are done, I need you back at the Yard, Ziva. McGee, take care of yourself. I'll see you back at work when you're cleared to be there. Got it?"

"Yes, Boss. Ziva, would you mind…I'm going to need something else to wear tomorrow, and-"

"Let me know what you need and I will bring it."

"Thanks, Ziva."

"Not a problem, McGee. I will be back later this evening-"

"After we finish with the new case."

"I missed a case? Oh, God, I'm sorry, Boss, I-"

"Forget it, McGee. I think we can handle this one without you, for now. Get better. You don't have permission to be sick for too long."

"Yes, Boss."

"Let's go, Ziva."

"I will see you later, McGee." She gave him a smile and followed Gibbs out of the room.

XXX

The sky was still dark when Ziva pulled into the driveway in front of the old house. She had been unable to make it back the night before, as the case had taken longer than they expected, but Gibbs had given her the morning off so she could pick McGee up from the hospital. She still needed to get something for him to wear, and she had wanted to check out the house herself before he returned, so she had arrived as early as she could to give herself time to do a thorough sweep of the place.

After grabbing a flashlight from the trunk of her car and the bag she had brought for McGee's clothes, she approached the front door of the mansion. She swung the light over the grounds, looking for signs of intruders, but she saw no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Finally she inserted the key in the lock and opened the door and was relieved when the tone sounded for the alarm system. She quickly turned the alarm off and shut the door, re-locking it and setting the alarm. She stood in the front hall, listening intently, but the house was silent.

She made her way to McGee's quarters and selected some clothes for him, which she placed in the bag, along with his travel kit she found in the bathroom. She searched the rooms, straightening the places that Tony had obviously disturbed during his search, but found no evidence of a second intruder.

Finally she left the guest wing and walked back through the first floor of the house, checking each room methodically, again correcting the disturbances Tony had made. She used one of the back staircases to reach the second and third floors, and searched them thoroughly as well, not finding any signs of an intruder. All of the doors were closed and when she checked each room, all she saw were sheet-shrouded pieces of furniture. Finally she returned to ground floor and entered the main section where she shined her flashlight up the central staircase. It was empty except for what looked like a blanket crumpled on one of the steps, about half-way up. She remembered seeing it the day before and now knew that McGee had likely dropped it when he had been searching for the animal he believed was in the house. Ziva hesitated for a brief moment before dashing up the steps to retrieve the blanket. She snatched it from the step and ran back down, stopping only when she had reached the safety of the ground floor. She glanced around and caught the briefest flash of movement further down the hall. Her breath caught in her throat and she shined her light in the direction of the movement. She saw nothing, but continued to illuminate the hallway. After several minutes, and when her pounding heart had returned to a more normal rhythm, she lowered the flashlight. Unfortunately she could not shake the overwhelming sense that she was _not_ alone.

"I know you are here," she said, her breathing still a bit ragged. "I do not know who you are, or what you want, but you leave him alone. Do you understand me? _Leave him alone!"_

There was only silence in reply. Finally, after straining to hear even the slightest acknowledgment of her command, she turned and walked back down the hall to the front door. She disabled the alarm, opened the door, and then punched in the reset code. After one last glance, she closed the door, locked it, and returned to her car. It was only when she reached it that she realized she was still holding the blanket. She sighed, tossed it in the trunk along with the bag of clothes, and slammed the trunk door. She climbed into the car and drove off, just as the first of the sun's rays penetrated the horizon.

Inside the house, a door slammed shut.

TBC...

* * *

A/N: For those of you who have never heard of it, Powerball is a multi-state lottery that has had very large payouts ($100 million).

Solomons Island and the CBL are real places (SMRH is not). No offense to residents or students intended. I don't know that actual distance between the Island and the mainland, but it isn't much.

There were several references to a certain movie. Did you catch them? ;)

The final line was a reference to the poem at the beginning, and also a bit of a nod to another NCIS story called _Just a Dive_, by Sergeant Conley. If you like horror, check it out.

Please let me know what you think.


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